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James Raven · (03-20-2019)

13 MONTHS AGO
James Raven vs "Loverboy" Vinnie Lane
XWF TURNING POINT 2018
Cairo, Egypt

It's hard to breathe. My heart is racing like a jackhammer, adrenaline flowing freely and sweat pouring out of me by the gallon as Vinnie Lane grabs me and drives me backwards into the ropes and the side of the steel cage. The chain link digs into my flesh like a cheese grater, rubbing me raw and tearing a small chunk from my shoulder. He relaxes for a split second; big mistake.

"The F.Y.S.! James Raven nearly decapitated Vinnie Lane with that superkick! Incredible!"

The commentators explode at cage side, and the fans leap to their feet as I unleash everything I have into the shot. Lanes head snaps back in a flash of blonde hair that would make any Instagram model jealous and what looks like a tooth flies from his mouth to the outside the ring. He collapses like he's been shot from the grassy knoll, body sprawling across the canvas as I collapse to my knees and try to suck wind. I'm exhausted, but it's what he had hoped for. I've chased this cunt for six months, and he finally agrees to a match and drags me all the way out to Africa right after running me through a gauntlet of the finest jobbers he could muster a few days before?

Breathe, Raven. Just breathe and finish this off. I crawl a few inches towards him, but stop as the chants of the crowd reach my ears.

"Climb the cage! Climb the cage! Climb the cage!"

... no... right?

I mean, I shouldn't listen to them... should I?

I'm not thinking clearly. I'm navigating through a fog, head full of cobwebs as I stare at the prone Vinnie Lane and hear the fans screaming for blood. No! Just cover him you fucking dummy! Just get the revenge you've wanted so desperately since you came back to the XWF for High Stakes! This is the guy that cost you against the Kings! He's jerked you around constantly! FUCKING FINISH HIM!

Or make him hurt.

I stand up. God damn it.

I stagger across the ring to the wall of the cage. Son of a bitch.

I begin to climb as the fans roar with glee.

I really hate myself sometimes.

Ten feet, fifteen feet, twenty feet. I make my way higher and higher, calluses ripping from my palms and fingers as I drag myself up the wall of the gimmick aviary with aching muscles and a grim determination. I take a second to glance down at Lane, still motionless... and then...

The birds. I forgot about the mother fucking birds... Vinnie had thought the idea was so cute, putting a bunch of crows and ravens in the top of the cage, and in a sick twist of irony they're what lead to demise. They swarm around me, black feathers swirling as talons tear at my face and forearms. There's no way to cover up and protect myself... and they send me plummeting. It all happens in slow motion, my eyes widening in terror as I watch my bloodied fingertips slide from the steel links and grasp at nothing but air. I feel the fall in the bottom of my stomach first, but the rest of my body quickly follows.

Twenty feet.

Fifteen.

Ten.

SMASH!

It's a lot quicker going down than it was going up. It's a hell of a lot more painful too. Vinnie isn't laying there anymore when I land, that possum playing pussy, and I flatten on the mat like I've been sat on by Barney Green. There's not a breath left in my lungs. Everything is on fire. Blood seeps from my wounds and stains the canvas, a dull ringing echoes in my ears and drowns out the screams of women and children in the crowd and the panicked calls of the play by play team. I can't see straight. I'm concussed. Fuck; I might be dying...

Don't let him win.

Stand up, Raven! Stand the fuck up! You've beaten the Legends of this company, you practically rebuilt this place after it had been run into the ground! You can't let Loverboy get the better of you after everything he's already put you through! Get to your goddamn feet, and finish him! I roll slowly to my hands and knees, every muscle fiber screaming and begging me for mercy. I plant one foot. I drive myself up, swaying slightly and trying to focus my pupils. Look. Where is he? Where is he?! I stagger. I stumble.

There's nothing left in the tank.

"VINNIE GRABS RAVEN! BLACK LABEL DRIVER! RAVEN IS DOWN AND OUT!"

It's all a blur after that. I drift in and out of consciousness a few times over the next minute, snapshots of Vinnie posing over me and holding my Xtreme title as he plays air guitar. My swirling vision makes me nauseous, my stomach churning and bile filling the back of my throat as I stare into the arena lights. They're overwhelming. The roar of the fans... I just need to close my eyes.

I don't remember them loading me onto the stretcher, or walking me through the bowels of the building to an ambulance and loading me inside. I don't remember if anyone from the roster said anything to me on the way out, but I wouldn't expect so.

It's quiet in the back of the ambulance. They leave me alone for a few minutes before a young and inexperienced paramedic jumps in the back to join me for the ride. I wish I blacked out for that, but I'm not that lucky. I just steep in shame and agony, praying that I wake up from this nightmare. Again, not that lucky. Finally the ambulance begins to move, pulling out of the parking garage and making it's way up a ramp to street level. The paramedic asks me questions but I don't understand them; maybe it's a language barrier, maybe it's the concussion.

Medical care in Cairo, I'm sure this will be a fucking treat.

I watch the arena as we pull away from it. I wave goodbye to the XWF.

I don't think I'll be able to show my face here for a long, long time.

FADE
TO
BLACK

Did you miss me?

You can be honest, we’re all friends here so it’s not like you need to put up a front to impress anyone. Just admit that when my face popped up on the X-Tron to end Saturday Night Savage you squealed like a little girl and got at least a semi-chub. It's OK! I understand! After all I'm incredibly good looking with a strong jaw and boyish charm, but more importantly I'm one of the greatest to ever lace up a pair of boots in this place. Who WOULDN'T be excited to see me back?

I'm sorry. You've heard this all before. You all have the "James Raven Greatest Hits" collection, I'm sure. You don't need me to tell you that your sister used to cut out my pictures from your wrestling magazines, or that your mother only bought posters of me so that she'd have something to look at and daydream about while she picked tighty whities up off your bedroom floor... so I won't even mention any of that.

I'm just so damned excited! Can you blame me, though?! A lot has changed since I've been away, but as much as they change it seems they stay the same. Peter Gilmour is still the jellified remains of his mothers failed abortion, running around bitching if he loses and bitching if he wins. Dolly Waters is still closer to her balls dropping than Thaddeus Duke is. Michael Graves' physical abilities are still slipping faster than Jim Caedus' mental stability. Chris Chaos is still a quivering, crusty, blue waffle of a cunt.

Most importantly, Apex is still towering above you all.

The faces involved may change and the balance of power may shift; but Apex is the most dominant union that the XWF has seen since the Kings. I've seen you all take your shots. Don't get me wrong, a few of them were even good. It doesn't change the fact that randomly assembled teams of halfway crooks and discards of the main event searching for a division to call home will never overcome a true brotherhood. THAT’S the real reason I came back. Not to give you all another chance to count the abs I’m smuggling under this collared shirt or to hear myself read off my own resume again. Not because I think adding a fifth tag team title to my legacy makes a difference.

I’m here because they needed me, and I don’t ostrich my head into the sand when the bat signal is flashed.

I’m here to protect the dynasty, to offer my boys a marker when their chips are down and they have to go all in.

Tell me, Eli and NAZI… what are you fighting for? Surely you have no real allegiance to each other, having been thrown together like a two minute meal because you didn’t qualify to go anywhere else. Would you take a chair shot for each other if you need to? Would you forget about winning if it meant you could save each other from serious harm? I doubt it. You’re lone wolfs wading into a battlefield where having someone you trust at your back is all that matters, your eyes blinded by shimmering gold and leaving you vulnerable to the thrashing of a lifetime.

Congratulations boys, you’ve sniffed out an opportunity and can practically taste the blood of a legend. You’re not the first to set me in their sights but there’s a reason that Robert and Drew came to me… I don’t come up short against guys like you. While someday you’ll look back and tell your inbred, chromosomally imbalanced children that you shared a ring with the People’s G.O.A.T. I will calmly fistbump my Apex brothers and move on to the next week as if nothing happened. You will be a tally in my win column, and a byline on the list of successful title defenses. I’m not trying to bury you. I just want to make sure you’re prepared for when you get buried. I’m a nice guy like that.

The winds of change are howling, friends. This roster is due for a shakeup, a changing of the guard, and I’m back to carry the torch. Enjoy your fifteenth minute of fame, NAZI, because soon there won’t be time for someone like you on an XWF broadcast… the Legends are returning, Centurion and I galloping in on war horses with sharpened battle axes and verbal spears to skewer those of you that have shit on our legacy while the rest wait in the wings for our signals. The prodigies are returning, the Dukes and the Dollys are released from the caves they’ve been hiding in, hungry and ready to go to lengths you’re not even capable of. The new blood is being injected, the Kudas and the Luxs and the Ned Kayes, swirling in among us and choking out the last bit of life someone like you has left in order to take your spot.

You thought this title match was the beginning of a new chapter, but it turns out it’s the end of your careers. Savor the moment kids, and good luck in your future endeavors.

To the rest of you, fair warning. This isn’t a special appearance, or a favor between friends. March Madness will be fun, but I’m just getting started.

Fear the Raven… no…

Fear The Apex… Forevermore.

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